


Precipice

by dormiensa



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Language, F/M, Mental Health Issues, Ministry of Magic (Harry Potter), Politics, Post-Hogwarts, Post-War, Psychological Trauma, Reverse Chronology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:06:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22532956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dormiensa/pseuds/dormiensa
Summary: Hermione is looking forward to a bright future now that Voldemort has been defeated and she's passed her NEWTs with flying colours.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	Precipice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Misdemeanor1331](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misdemeanor1331/gifts).



> this was written a while back but got shelved for various reasons. found it again and decided to dust it off and polish it up a bit. it could use more re-working, but i don't have the energy what with the tense work environment resulting from disproportional panic towards the risk of coronavirus. my muse has barricaded herself in protest--and no, she's not wearing a mask because her risk of exposure is negligible and is therefore not a **bleeping** carrier.
> 
> work is not beta'd. maybe down the road.
> 
> last but not least, dedicated to misdemeanor1331, who was so encouraging in the early stages!

[9.]

> _“Goodnight, my angel, now it's time to dream_  
>  _And dream how wonderful your life will be...”_
> 
> from _Lullaby (Goodnight, My Angel)_ by Billy Joel

Hermione hummed softly as she suckled her newborn son. He was less than one day old but already showing definite signs of a strong personality; he was feeding hungrily and noisily. As she smoothed the soft down atop his head, little bursts of giggling would escape her and she gazed adoringly at him. 

“My sweet Athelstan. Yes, you’re Mummy’s darling, precious Athelstan. Yes, you are!” Another giggle escaped. “Who’s Mummy’s smart boy? Oh, my little sweeting, Mummy wants to kiss you and squeeze you!”

Athelstan was enthralled by his mother’s voice and kept his pale eyes fixed on the point from whence it issued. Hermione continued her prattling until he finally gave indication that his hunger pangs were satisfied for the time being. Carefully placing him on her shoulder, Hermione patted and stroked his little back and told him he was a good boy when she heard him burp. She wiped his perfect little mouth and then settled him against her so that he was sitting comfortably and securely in her left arm and facing forward. She gingerly got out of the rocking chair; she paused to take a deep breath to make steady her trembling wand arm before reaching for the wand on the nightstand.

Casting a quick spell to pull back the curtains, Hermione slowly made her way to the window. She placed the wand in the pocket of her dressing gown and then raised Athelstan a bit higher so that he could get a better view. From their window on the fifth floor in the new wing of St. Mungo’s, they could see Diagon Alley. Hermione giggled as she recalled how she had almost single-handedly convinced the Ministry and the Governing Council of St. Mungo’s to add this new building to the existing structure. There would no longer be any further nonsense regarding birthing at home—so unhygienic! As it was, she’d already had to compromise. If it were not for her over-protective husband and two over-protective best friends, she would’ve much preferred giving birth to Athelstan in a Muggle London hospital, with all the state-of-the-art technology at her disposal. Magical Medicine was still very much trapped in a bygone era. However, thanks to her diligence and determination, her sweet Athelstan entered the world under better circumstances than had previously existed.

“Look, my precious, that’s Diagon Alley. And that’s the entrance to the Ministry where Mummy works. You are a very lucky little boy, do you know that? If you were born even a year ago, you would’ve had to be born at home, and your chances of getting an infection would’ve been astronomically higher. It’s thanks to Mummy’s tenacity that your first introduction to the world was inside a properly sterilized room in a hospital. And you’ll know when you get older just how much better this world is than it was when Mummy was first introduced to it at age eleven. You’ll have to promise to be a good boy and carry on making improvements to our world. Will you do that for Mummy?”

Athelstan responded with a yawn. Hermione kissed his forehead and manoeuvered him so that she could rock him to sleep. When he had drifted into a deep slumber, she quietly placed him in the bassinet. She kissed his cheek tenderly. Finally, she drew the curtains magically, made sure the door was on “Do Not Disturb” alert, and headed toward the bed.

Before she climbed in, she placed the walnut wand back on the nightstand.

[8.]

> _These people go out into the street, and walk down the street alone._  
>  _They keep walking, and walk straight out of the city of Omelas,_  
>  _through the beautiful gates. [...] Each alone, they go west or north,_  
>  _towards the mountains. They go on. They leave Omelas, they walk_  
>  _ahead into the darkness, and they do not come back._
> 
> from _The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas_ by Ursula Le Guin

Eve smiled approvingly when she entered the Minister’s office and found the plate empty and the cup of hot tea almost completely consumed. She had been monitoring Madam Granger-Malfoy very closely ever since she’d been told the happy news. She’d also noticed with some relief that the intermittent twitches seemed to have disappeared. 

The Minister did not look up from her paperwork as Eve collected the empty dishware and cutlery, but the grateful “Thank you, Eve” was certainly not meant for the piles of parchment. Eve had worked under several department heads over the years, and although Madam Granger-Malfoy (she could _never_ call her Hermione, in spite the Minister’s protests) was more demanding and high-strung than any of her former bosses, Eve liked and admired her. To be fair, the Minister was even more demanding of herself, and she was never obnoxious or rude to any of her staff. Eve heard many grumbling about the Minister’s drastic policies and relentless energy to get what she wanted, but at least some good was coming out of such harsh measures. If the Ministers in office during V-Voldemort’s reign of terror had had half as much backbone and stamina, things at the Ministry would not have ended up in the mess it had been by the time Auror Potter defeated the evil wizard. 

When she got back to her desk, Eve sent a quick missive to the Minister’s Healer to give an update on her well-being.

***

Hermione hummed as she added Wynken, Blynken, and Nod, another of her favourite nursery rhyme characters, to the wall of the baby’s room. She’d been “Muggle-fying” (as Draco half-snarkily put it) the nursery for an hour. It was a project she’d been wanting to do, but there was always something happening at the Ministry that required her attention. Draco had pulled a Gryffindor on her and insisted that she take a week’s vacation, and she had to admit that it was a good decision. Though she wouldn’t tell him in so many words—his “I know best” smugness was getting quite insufferable. Still, the week off did give her the opportunity to finally tackle this project. She had spent all day yesterday poring through catalogues to update the furniture—Draco could mock all he wanted, but certain non-magical items were just genius! _Their_ sprog was going to reap the benefits of both worlds.

A small thump of approval made Hermione rub her growing bump affectionately. Now that they were firmly in the safe zone of the second trimester, Hermione had been carefully tracking the baby’s daily progress and keeping a record. It really was amazing how one’s priorities shifted with the imminent arrival of such a small, life-changing person. She was no less determined to cross out all the items on her list of things to accomplish while in office, but the desire to fulfill as many as possible and as soon as possible had become much less relentless. She supposed she would have to pace herself after she returned from maternity leave. Luckily, she knew the sprog would be in the capable hands of the house-elves. 

Fingering the adorable outfits in the top drawer, Hermione smiled as she thought of the huge fight she’d had with Draco over the retention of all the manor’s house-elves after her Emancipation Act had passed. While she still felt they didn’t need so many to upkeep the manor, she couldn’t deny that they did seem happy. 

Looking about the room, Hermione decided that she _would_ change the colour of the curtains. They were too sombre. As she waved her wand to spell them into a butter-yellow, she felt a sharp pain in her forearm. And then that horribly familiar involuntary twitch. 

_No! No-no-no! Why is it back? I’ve done nothing to trigger them! I’ve followed the Healer’s instructions to the letter. Argh! My body hates me! Stop it! Stop it! We’ll see who’s boss…_

A blinding rage took hold of Hermione and she whipped her wand about in increasingly wider arcs and swings. She laughed when a flick toppled the ancient chest of drawers on its side, spilling its contents all over the carpeted floor. She began multiplying the number of slash marks made on the walls that slowly obliterated the animated figures. 

Finally, having run out of objects to satisfy her destructive urges, Hermione crumpled onto the floor in a gasping, sobbing mess.

***

“So, is Hermione coming or has she owl’d to cancel again?” Padma asked as she sat down.

Ginny looked up from her menu. “Yes, and she’s got ten minutes before she’s late. I’ve arranged with her secretary that she’s to be pushed through the Floo if she doesn’t show within the next twenty minutes.”

“Eve’s like a mother hen, but Hermione needs someone like that to help oversee her workload. If left to herself, Hermione’s prone to sleeping at the office. Remember how many times Madam Pince had to shoo her out of the library?” Padma giggled. 

Ginny nodded emphatically. “But I have to say, ever since she found out she was pregnant, she’s been pacing herself. And she seems calmer than I’ve ever seen her. Fewer mood swings. The tremors have stopped, too.”

“Yes. I was worried. We struck up a friendship while working together in Accidents and Catastrophes, but after she got into the Wizengamot, she changed so much that I didn’t think we’d be on more than polite speaking terms at Ministry functions.”

“Well, she’s always been single-minded about her goals—remember her campaign to free the Hogwarts house-elves? I guess the power of being Minister got to her head for a bit. I was also ready to just be a once-friend. But then she reached out and surprised me with her newfound placidity.”

“Let’s hope she stays as relaxed for the remainder of her pregnancy. We could all use a break from her constant campaigning to improve everyone’s lives.”

Padma nodded in agreement to Susan’s comment. “Are you and Luna still having trouble with your patients? Perhaps you should—”

Ginny interrupted. “Here she comes. Hermione! Good, you’re here. We were worried that something at the Ministry would prevent you from coming.”

“I’m under strict supervision from an over-protective Eve. And an over-protective Draco. They made me take the day off so that I wouldn’t miss this.” Hermione took a few moments to greet the other ladies gathered.

“Well, it’s about time you started slowing down. I know you don’t think so, but the world _can_ survive without you constantly worrying about it.”

“I know, Ginny, but there are still so many things to do that—”

“You have another two years to work on them before you need to run for re-election,” Padma pointed out. “And you’ve done plenty in the past three. Just... take a breather. How long will you be off for your maternity leave?”

“Draco went behind my back and arranged for a six-month leave. The egomaniacal twit! And unless there is a national or international crisis that absolutely requires my attention, I am not to even be kept up to date by anyone in the Wizengamot or any of the Heads! I’m sure he’ll even stop me from reading the _Prophet_ so that I can’t be tempted to send Owls to the office.”

“It’s for your own good, Hermione. What about this: if you are feeling the effects of cabin fever, you can come spend the day in the nursery, help us feed the baby creatures. I’ll let Luna know.” 

“Thank you, Susan. I’ll keep that in mind! How are things at the hospital?”

“Very busy! Now that we have established a reputation for good quality of care, we have magical creatures coming from all over the world! And we’ve had a slew of applications from Creature Healers in other countries wanting to train or share expertise by coming on staff.”

“That’s wonderful! Do you have enough funds for that? We could negotiate with their Ministries to share the costs of salaries and—”

“Hermione...”

“Right, no strategizing about work at your table. Susan, you’ll contact Global Co-op? You may also want to liaise with Head Creature Keeper Huxley. She’s got many contacts internationally, so—” 

Padma intervened. “So, Parvati was telling me the other day that the Witch Weekly Bachelor of the Year is going to be Cormac McLaggen.”

Susan sniffed. “I’m not surprised. The number of women he’s seen with... I’ve always wondered if those rumours about his prowess are true.” 

“Well, Hermione’s been on the receiving end of his kisses. How would you rate his abilities, Hermione?” Ginny gave Hermione a saucy grin.

“I only had the one encounter. He was forceful and a bit too greedy. I can only hope he’s improved his technique since then.”

“So... Draco’s kissing abilities better?”

“Well...”

“She’s blushing!” Ginny crowed.

“Really, Hermione? You may only have been married for two years, but you’ve been together for how long?” Susan teased.

Padma put in, “He _has_ to have something that makes him completely irresistible, given that she still complains about his prickly demeanour and sneaky Slytherin tactics.” 

“Oh, that’s just for form’s sake. If you’ve ever caught them in a quiet moment, you’ll realize that they’re besotted with each other.”

“Ginny!”

Susan chimed, “Oh, Hermione, it’s no secret. We’ve _all_ seen those looks.”

“One of them even made it onto the front page of the _Prophet_ , remember?” Padma grinned as Hermione scowled.

“That’s right!” Ginny exclaimed. “Lavender was so proud of that article—her first big story after taking over for Skeeter.”

“Indeed! Parvati was so jealous. And trying to get an exclusive interview with Draco while she was dating Blaise Zabini was a complete disaster.”

“She was dating Zabini? I never knew that!”

“Oh, Zabini was terribly tight-lipped and secretive about his girlfriends. I suppose you can’t blame him, what with his mother’s infamy.”

“He seems happy with his wife. She’s beautiful.”

Hermione, relieved that the focus had shifted, added, “She’s smart as well. She’s works in the Thailand Ministry’s equivalent of Law-force.”

Susan looked puzzled. “But... I’m always seeing him in Diagon Alley, so does that mean that she has to Portkey to work every day?” 

“Oh no. It’s the other way around. Although Draco says that he has been thinking about selling his import/export business so that he doesn’t have to travel so much.”

“And how is the father-to-be faring? Now that the Minister has had to slow down, I suppose her advisor has found himself with a lot more time on his hands?”

“Too much. I need to find something for him to do. He’s constantly hovering. Between him and Eve, it’s like I have two nannies.”

“Oh, Hermione, we’ve all been very… concerned about your well-being ever since you started in office. We know you’re more than capable, but consider this: your unborn isn’t. So, for his or her sake, take it easy.”

“Yes, Nanny Susan.”

“Padma and I are also going to be keeping a close eye on you.” Ginny pointed a finger menacingly.

“I go from having no mother to acquiring seven. I’ll be lucky to survive the ordeal.”

“Seven?” Padma queried.

“You can add Harry and Ron to your ranks.”

“Ah!”

“In that case, I’ll get Mum to make a list of things Harry and my brother should pay especial attention to.”

“Ginny, don’t you dare!”

“Then, do you promise to behave?”

“Fine. But only until the sprog’s born.”

“We’ll accept that.”

“For now.”

***

As soon as they arrived home, Hermione pushed Draco into the oversized armchair and snuggled into his lap. She’d learned that this method prevented him from drowning his sorrows in alcohol.

“She seemed in good spirits today.”

“Yes.”

“She snuck another dragon figurine into my hand before we left. I think she’s been Transfiguring them from random objects she gets her hands on.”

“Parchment.”

“Parchment? Where can she get parchment? The staff can’t be supplying her with it, else I’d’ve seen the bill for it. It’d be considered a luxury item not covered by our healthcare benefits plan.”

“Lockhart.”

“Oh, of course! Silly me!” Hermione nuzzled his neck. “I assume she used to Transfigure parchment into dragon figurines for you, since you seem to know how she does it.”

“Yes.”

“Are one-word answers all I’m going to get the rest of the evening? I mean, I shouldn’t complain—it’s rare that I get to dominate a conversation and say all that I want to without interruption or caustic rejoinders from someone very much in love with his own voice. But it’s not as much fun, either.”

Draco sighed and kissed the top of her head. “I’m sorry. She _does_ seem more vibrant today. More so than I’ve ever seen since she’s been in there.”

“Well, your happiness has always been her only priority. Seeing you settled must be a weight off her mind, even if she can’t quite articulate it. You saw how she patted my bump fondly.”

“Yes, a gesture which would’ve rendered any other perpetrator one hand short.”

“It’s a violation of my person! It’s as rude as going up to a stranger and grabbing hold of his or her genitals. Why people feel they have a right to just—”

“I agree, Formida’am. Perhaps a Shield Charm next time? That poor old witch got quite a nasty shock.”

“She rubbed harder than the others! And it was just a Stinging Hex. I could’ve cast the Furnunculus or set my birds on her.”

“I’m so glad I’m not your enemy anymore.”

“I slapped sense into you.”

“And you call me a smug Smaug.”

“Oh!” Hermione suddenly sat up and waved her arms excitedly. “After I pop the sprog, remind me to bring him to visit Narcissa. It may further improve her condition! Remember how the Healer said her bouts of lucidity have been more frequent lately?”

“Well, I _had_ thought to keep the sprog a secret from her, but if you insist—Ow!”

“Be serious! Don’t you want to see her recover? Or are you afraid of having to obey two witches?”

“Witches don’t terrify me. Last I checked, my name was Malfoy, not Weasley. Gah! That hurt!” He rubbed his shoulder, where he’d received a pinch.

“Just for that, I hope our son gets Sorted into Gryffindor.”

“What has our sprog ever done to you that you’d curse your own flesh and blood that way?” He grabbed her hand before it could land another blow. Then, he pulled her against him and distracted her with a fierce kiss.

Draco’d learned that this method saved him from much physical harm.

***

The gathered wizards paused in their warm-ups as the *pop* of Apparition was heard.

“Hey, look what the cat dragged in. Or, in his case, the half-Kneazle!”

“Piss off, Weasel King!”

Fred teased. “Should you even be here, Mr. Consort? The sprog’s gonna pop any day now.” 

“Her Healer says we have another two weeks, Weasel F, and if I were you, I’d enjoy these last two weeks of reprieve.”

George replied, “Can’t argue with that! This is the first time in years that Weazies has picked up. I love Hermione as much as I do Ginny, but when she’s on a rampage for social change, it’s really bad for business. The other shop owners have noticed the same thing.”

Nott snorted. “Perhaps, for the benefit of the wizarding world, we should start a petition to convince Draco to keep his lovely wife knocked up for the next several years.”

“I’ll knock you, Theo! Or better yet, I’ll rig your office. I seem to recall that you sported that black eye for a week.”

Ron snorted. “Oh, so _that_ was the reason for the shiner! I thought Nott had accidentally tripped into Goyle’s fist!”

“He could’ve, if he were ever stupid enough to come between Goyle _or_ Crabbe and their food; something you’d understand, I’m sure, Weasel King.”

“Oi! You watch your mouth, Malfoy. Or—”

“Or what? Are you going to go crying to my wife and rat me out? Use her as a shield, knowing full well I would never lay a hand on her, especially at this time?”

Harry intervened. “You couldn’t beat Hermione even if you tried, Malfoy. She’s upgraded from a simple slap across the face, but perhaps you’re a bit fuzzy on the details, having suffered those concussions.”

“You need to find a different hobby, Oh-Save-Us Potter. Frankly, your heroics are getting tedious. If you are in constant need of evil overlords to keep your sanity in check, you should’ve stopped the Wizengamot from getting rid of all potential threats after you defeated Voldemort all those years ago. But I suppose, if you were to knuckle down and crack open a book, you just may find some Dark way to create a worthy adversary. Perhaps then you’ll leave the rest of us in peace.”

“Please, boys, let’s stop the bickering,” Neville pleaded. “We’re here to have a friendly game of Quidditch. And I need to be back at the school by curfew. There are still some assignments to mark.”

Ron made a face. “Oh, so sorry, _Professor_ Longbottom. But weren’t you just saying the other day that there are fewer sprogs at the school than before? Or have a bunch of Freds and Georges overrun the school?”

“Oi, Fred and I didn’t _nearly_ get into as much trouble as you and Harry—”

“That’s right! We were the ones that started the movement to get rid of Umbridge while the rest of you just lined up for the slaughter.”

“Hold the Weasel family meeting for later!” Draco snapped. “Is that true, Longbottom? There are fewer children enrolled at Hogwarts? Do you know why?”

“There are definitely fewer first years. We had the same problem last year as well. But what is more troubling is that some of the children in higher years have transferred to other schools.”

“You know, Neville, I noticed that the platform was less crowded when I dropped James and Albus off, but I just thought I must’ve misremembered the crowds during our years taking the train.”

“No, Harry. There are definitely fewer children now than during our years... except, of course, the year that Snape was Headmaster.” 

“And McGonagall can’t explain this trend, Longbottom?” Draco pressed.

“N-no. The parents who transferred their children gave... vague reasons.”

Draco eyed Neville for several minutes but did not press the matter. It was clear that Neville was withholding something, but Draco made a mental note to pursue the truth of the matter himself and make mention to Hermione if there was anything that could be done. 

While he mused, Draco missed the looks that passed between some of the Gryffindors as they all set off toward the pitch.

[7.]

> _“Happiness is a hard master—particularly other people's happiness._  
>  _A much harder master, if one isn't conditioned to accept it  
>  unquestionably, than truth.”_
> 
> from _Brave New World_ by Aldous Huxley

“Fred, Scrivenshaft’s has closed!” 

“What?!”

“Was just talking to Rosmerta. Ol’ Scriven’s been having horrible business since last summer.”

“That’s the fourth shop to close down in six months.”

“Yeah, and all of them related to school supplies, have you noticed?”

“Well, we haven’t exactly been doing as well with Zonko’s as we thought we would. I guess there’s some merit in what Neville’s been saying about the abysmal enrollment at Hogwarts.”

“Rosmerta was saying even some of her oldest customers have been talking about moving out of the country. ‘Too many reforms—a body can’t bloody take it at my age’.”

“Better not let Hermione know about that. Or Harry, Ron, and Percy—if she wasn’t so uptight about things like illegal potions and the Imperius, I swear I’d suspect her of some form of mind control on the barmcakes.”

“Well, Harry and Ron have always taken her side. And Perce has thrived with her at the helm, so…”

“Still, it’s a bit worrying when the Head Auror and the Head of Law-force can’t tell a Blast-Ended Skrewt’s head from its tail.”

“Well, to be fair, it _is_ pretty hard, given that the critters don’t have heads…”

“But they’re supposed to be the experts, and if _they_ can’t see right from wrong…”

“I know. We really need to figure out a way to get her to slow down.”

“ _Avada_ ’ing the Minister for Magic is a serious offence.” 

“Nothing so drastic. Malfoy is key.”

“Brilliant, George! Nothing like interhouse cooperation to fulfill Dumbledore’s pet dream.”

“Think the Cannons will rent us their pitch for a reasonable rate if Ron does the asking?”

***

As soon as Eve heard the crashing sounds from behind the closed door, she immediately activated the spells that would completely soundproof the outer office walls and door and only allow entry to a very small list of individuals. By the time the screaming started, she already had in her hand the useful, two-way mirror for such emergencies.

“Mr. Draco Malfoy!” When she saw his worried face appear, she wasted no time. “She’s having another tantrum. Please hurry!” 

Eve sighed when she heard his muttered expletive and listened closely for the sounds of his arrival by the fireplace inside the inner office. When the screams turned to sobs, she sighed again and disappeared through the fireplace by her desk to warn the St. Mungo’s staff that a brief stay may be needed again by the Minister for Magic.

Meanwhile, inside Hermione’s office, Draco had gathered his weeping wife in his arms and sequestered them on the divan. 

“I can’t do this! I’m going to go down as the worst Minister for Magic in history. Even worse than the Imperiused Thicknesse!”

“Hush! You’re just stressed over the talks with the Caribbean Conglomerate, that’s all.”

“No, it’s worse than that! The Wizengamot refused to budge on the sugar substitute issue, and—”

“Then just get Brown from the _Prophet_ to interview Mungo’s Healers to raise public awareness about the dangers of overconsumption of sugar and appeal to the young mothers. You circumvented the wankers of the Wizengamot that way with the electricity issue, remember? And now, the Department of Mysteries has a branch looking into finding a way of making electricity available to us.”

“But these are only small achievements. I’ve got so many more improvements I want to implement! And there’s no guarantee that I will get another term as Minister. What if all that I have to show for in five years is—”

“Hermione, you’re making great strides already. Look at what you’ve done to ensure improved rights for magical creatures! You’ve not only ensured that they have proper access to the same healthcare privileges as us, you’ve even built St. Francis’ to make sure that there is a proper facility with expert Creature Specialists who know how to properly care for their needs. Although you weren’t able to convince Hagrid to be on staff, Bones and Lovegood have run the hospital effectively and efficiently, wouldn’t you agree? What’s more, you realized your goal of freeing the house-elves like you’ve wanted since Hogwarts. I’m glad you didn’t resurrect that horrible ‘spew’ name, though. ‘House-elf Emancipation Act’ is much better.”

Draco finally managed to elicit a watery chuckle from his much-calmed-down wife.

“Slimy, snarky, sodomized Slytherin! You just _had_ to bring that up, didn’t you? And it’s S-P-E-W, not ‘spew’!”

“For such a clever witch, you certainly have glaring blind-spots.”

“I married you, didn’t I?”

“Ah, there’s the infamous caustic repartee. I thought it got swept away like all the papers on your desk.”

“Argh! If only I had the use of my arms, you smug Smaug, I’d—”

“Hex me to oblivion. I know. Snuggling is wonderful, isn’t it, my sweet-tempered paragon?”

“Hmph!”

“Now, will you be a good girl and come home to rest or will I have to get Eve to admit you into Mungo’s?”

Hermione sighed. “Home. Risk of infections is very high during the first trimester.”

***

“Ginny, you’re a lifesaver! I’m going crazy at the hospital!”

“Where’s Luna?”

“Oh, you know Luna. ‘Stress’ doesn’t exist in her vocabulary. She decided to ‘take a break’ by locking herself in the crèche and cuddling the cubs and hatchlings.”

“I’m really jealous of how easy-going she can still be after all that’s happened to her. I never thought I’d say this, but I miss The Quibbler. Can’t believe it’s been almost a year since the last issue.”

“Even with her calmness, she’s still got too much to do to find time for the magazine. And readership has been flagging ever since she published about the not-so-pleasant aspects of the pre-Hogwarts camp.”

“Well, I guess she can feel a small sense of victory that the Office for Feedback and Suggestions from the Public has finally been shut down.”

“About time, too!”

“Harry’s office was finally given irrefutable proof that the messages were being Transfigured into blank parchment to be used for interoffice memos.”

Susan shook her head. “How did Hermione take it?”

“Much calmer than expected. Of course, Harry coerced Draco to break the news to her.”

“Ah. Though, to be fair, Hermione seems calmer lately than she’s been since she started her crusade.”

“She has. There are suspicions and rumours, but neither of them have confirmed.”

“Well, she’s been in the public eye ever since she became a member of the Wizengamot, and it doesn’t help that everything she’s done since becoming Minister has drastically affected people’s live—for good or ill.”

“She’s got the right intentions, I’ll give her that, but the Slytherin influences…”

“Oh, let’s be fair: she’s always had a bit of the Slytherin in her. Remember what she did to Umbridge in school?”

“Well, that bitch deserved it. But you have a point.”

“We should see if there’s anything we can do to foster more of this calm demeanour. Even if the rumours prove groundless, she needs to step back and just breathe. She’s overextended herself.”

“Lunch breaks like this, perhaps?”

“Why not?”

***

“Harry, is there a day this week that you can tell the office that you won’t be in?”

“Why? What’s the matter, Gin?”

“We need to interview for a new house-elf.”

“Again? What’s happened to Abby?”

“I found her crying over a box of Lily’s baby clothes—I thought we’d given them all away, but I guess I overlooked these. Abby was moaning about how, if she were still with the Fawleys, she’d be in charge of a nursery full of grandchildren.”

“Oh dear. Have you made arrangements with Susan or Luna about admitting Abby for a stay?”

“I Floo’d Luna right away and managed to get her in. Luna says that they’re almost at capacity. And that’s _with_ the additional wing that was opened recently. She says the house-elves tend to stay an average of a month before they’re calm enough to decide whether they want to go back to the placement agency for a new position, to ask for a retirement package, or to simply go back to work, having spent their entire vacation and more in-hospital. You probably don’t know this, but Luna stopped having tea with us if Hermione’s going to be there because of the House-elf Emancipation Act.”

“I understand her frustration—she has her hands full with treating the house-elves and making sure they’re adjusting to this big change. But Hermione did warn that it would take time for everyone, the house-elves especially, to get used to the new way. And you can’t fault the Act itself: we are practically the only society on the planet who still condoned slavery until recently.”

“It’s not slavery if the house-elves are happy! And now, because of her idealistic standards, they are miserable! Susan says this is traumatic for them and they may never adjust. Is the realization of a dream more important than the welfare of those who are supposedly benefitting from it? And what about the fallout for the rest of us? This is the _fourth_ house-elf we’ve had since the Act was passed.”

“Ginny, you can’t _know_ if they are truly happy—even they can’t! Anyone stuck in such a situation and with nothing to compare it to don’t know they’re miserable until they get the option for a better life! The house-elves have been enslaved for so long that they’ve had to adjust their attitudes and find satisfaction in the work itself, ignoring the abuse. I resigned myself to the life I had while living with the Dursleys, and fine, I did know I was unhappy because I had Dudley to compare to, but I didn’t know I had the option of a different life altogether until Hagrid showed up. And not _all_ the house-elves are having problems adjusting, you know. Look at Kreacher.”

“Kreacher’s different: he gets to serve the same family. And he still grumbles about the salary and paid holidays—he just doesn’t do it in your presence. I think it’s only house-elves like Kreacher, those who are lucky enough to still stay with their original families, who are ‘adjusting’. You haven’t heard Luna rant about how miserable the house-elves at her hospital are. She was so upset one day that she threatened to take vacation for a week so she could work on an article to publish in The Quibbler. But, of course, she couldn’t abandon the patients—they’re understaffed as is—so The Quibbler is still out of circulation. And no one else seems to have the courage to speak against the Act.”

“So, you’d rather that house-elves like Dobby could still be kicked about and be forced to punish themselves for every wrong-doing?”

“ _No!_ Of course not! I’m just saying that Hermione’s method is too extreme. If the Act just made sure that families had to treat their house-elves with kindness and respect—fine, and pay them, too—that would’ve been enough. You did just that with Kreacher, remember? But no, she _had_ to make them cut the ties completely ‘so that they can have options’. And limiting families to two adult house-elves and their offspring looks great on paper, but in reality, it’s like sending the rest of them to an orphanage and forcing them to be adopted by strangers and be happy with that arrangement. Well, Susan and Luna’s patients are proof of just how ‘happy’ they are.”

“But there are hardly any households who had more than two adult house-elves, anyway, so it’s just a small population—”

“Yeah, but the placement agency has the final say about where a house-elf ends up. So, if the workers feel that the house-elf should go to a new family, that’s where he gets placed.”

“But there’s a very stringent process where the house-elf’s desires and needs are considered—”

“ _In theory_. In practice, the workers think they know better than the house-elves ‘because they’ve been enslaved for so long that they can’t objectively decide what’s best for them’. Susan and Luna have had a lot of arguments over this with the workers. The two of them were trying to figure out ways to decrease the sheer numbers of house-elves that show up suffering from depression and anxiety. And there’s no resolving the issue if you don’t address the root of the problem.”

“So, you want me to tell Hermione that she’s wrong? That she should just abolish the Act and let things go back to the way they were?”

“Ugh! Forget it! You always take her side! I’ll go to the agency myself tomorrow. And if the new house-elf accidentally sets fire to the house, then it’ll be your fault!”

[6.]

> _“These wonderful narrations inspired me with strange feelings._  
>  _Was man, indeed, at once so powerful, so virtuous, and magnificent,_  
>  _yet so vicious and base? He appeared at one time a mere scion of_  
>  _the evil principle and at another as all that can be conceived of_  
>  _noble and godlike.”_
> 
> from _Frankenstein_ by Mary Shelley

Draco scoffed as he looked about the ballroom. The usual cliques were huddled together and ignoring everyone else. It was a good thing that Hermione was much too preoccupied dealing with the kiss-arses surrounding her to notice. Some things never changed. 

He would give them another ten minutes before extricating her.

Draco dutifully made the rounds with her before Hermione insisted that he spend some time catching up with his friends while she did likewise with hers. He gave her a perfunctory kiss on the cheek before heading toward the small circle that included some of his oldest acquaintances. He had just finished greeting them when Cecil Warrington and Daphne Greengrass joined the group.

“So, Malfoy, how do you like being a kept man? You know, if someone told me that there would come a day when I saw the great Draco Malfoy become the lapdog of a Mudblood, I’d’ve laughed and checked him into Mungo’s for Firewhiskey poisoning.”

Draco’s back had stiffened before he turned toward the sneering voice. His eyes glinted dangerously, but he replied in a sufficiently calm and controlled tone. “Have you managed to clear your gambling debts with Leucosia’s Isle, Warrington?”

“What do you know about that, Malfoy? And what business is it of yours, anyway? Have you been getting chummy with the Aurors? Got a spy sniffing around, collecting evidence so your _pals_ can shut it down?”

“Cecil,” Daphne hissed. She looked at Draco anxiously. “I’m so sorry, Draco. Don’t mind him. He’s just had too much to drink.”

Draco smirked, took one last, contemptuous look at Warrington, and walked off.

“You’re an idiot, Warrington,” Pansy scolded. “Who do you think owns Leucosia’s Isle? You’d better stay away from there for the next week or else you’ll find the interest rates on any new debts much higher than before.”

“I don’t know what you’re... Shit! You mean Malfoy—? But I thought, what with his newfound friends being such righteous, tight-arsed Gryffindors that... Oh, fuck me!”

“Daphne, take him home before he makes a complete fool of himself. And don’t worry, I’ll smooth things over with Draco. But keep an eye on Warrington. I can’t always be around to save his sorry arse.” 

Pansy made her way to the new group that Draco had joined and, after exchanging pleasantries, soon succeeded in getting Draco alone. “Draco, you’re not going to—”

“Have Hit Wizards go after Warrington? Of course not.”

“Daphne—”

“Stop fretting, Panse. As long as her daft husband can cough up the money by deadline, I promise nothing will happen to him.”

“You know, Draco, he does have a point. You’ve got the connections that you need now, and you’re on your own two feet again, so you really don’t need—”

“Pa-anse... I’m not marrying her for the power and prestige she has to offer. I’m marrying her because she loves me for who I am, not what I have. My parents were the only ones who ever loved me in that way. And she was there when I was left with nothing but an empty house and a vault full of Galleons. That Christmas during my house arrest, I must’ve sent out ten Howlers in my drunken state. She was the only one who gave a damn.”

“What about me? You could’ve owl’d or Floo’d me if you needed a friend! I would’ve come!”

“You forget: I wasn’t allowed to have any of my friends and family visit me, in case you lot were hatching a plan to smuggle me out. I told her about that when she showed up, but she wouldn’t budge. She even said that she would hex any Ministry official who showed up and tried to make her leave.”

“Foolhardy Gryffindors, the lot of them. She’s even worse than Our Saviour Potter. But then, you’ve always admired that about her, haven’t you?”

Draco smirked. “I may have traded one overlord for another, but at least this one has great legs and makes the most fantastic moans in bed. Ow!”

“Ugh, you’re disgusting, Draco Malfoy. I could’ve died without knowing that!”

“Look at her, Panse. Could she be otherwise?”

Pansy sighed. “You really do love her. Well, just remember that if you ever need to be smuggled out, you do have friends, friends who can outwit her lot with our eyes closed.”

“I know, Panse.”

***

“Potter! How kind of your head to visit.”

The hovering head in the fireplace huffed. “Listen, Malfoy, I’m not in the mood. Can you just come to the Auror Office? Use your Slytherin abilities to do some good, for a change.”

“Are you asking for my help, Potter? If you are, this is a piss-poor way of going about it.”

“Fine, yes, I need your help. Now, will you please get your arse over here?”

“Such manners. But then, you’re a Gryffindor, so I guess I must be the bigger person and overlook such crassness.”

“Whatever. You’re shagging a Gryffindor, so I guess the crassness is rubbing off. I expect you here in five.” With that, Harry’s head disappeared from the fireplace.

Six minutes later, Draco emerged from the fireplace of the reception area and brushed off Floo powder from his otherwise immaculate robes. 

“Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter is waiting in his office. I was told to show you in right away. Please follow me.”

“Oh, don’t trouble yourself, Miss Rafferty, I’ll show myself in.”

Draco did not bother to knock before entering the Head Auror’s office. Harry looked up and glared. Draco smirked and glided gracefully into the chair in front of Harry’s desk.

“How kind of you to take time out of your busy schedule, Malfoy.”

“Oh, don’t mention it. I’m quite used to advising prominent Gryffindors. _Someone_ has to be the brains of the operation.”

“I’ll be sure to tell Hermione you said that.”

“As you so astutely pointed out earlier, Potter, I’m the one who’s shagging your best friend. Who do you think she’ll listen to?”

Harry grimaced but decided against replying. “The Aurors have had to make more arrests of heads of families refusing to pay the Infrastructure Tax. Not surprisingly, they’re all pure-bloods. We need to resolve this problem once and for all. Do you know what one of them said to me? That the Ministry is breeding a class of lazy scum who will be the downfall of our society. What about them? Most of them haven’t worked a day of their lives. They’re sitting on piles of Galleons. Even if the Tax were increased to twenty percent from ten, they wouldn’t see a dent in their fortunes. And I have yet to see evidence of abuse by those who apply to the assistance programs that the Tax funds.”

Draco yawned. “Save your indignations for the Wizengamot, Potter, if you really need an audience who cares. I take it you’d like me to convince these venerable heads of families to conform ‘for the greater good’? And possibly come up with a tactic that will put the fear of Voldemort into everyone so that no one will dare shirk their duty again?”

“Listen, Malfoy, if this were the Muggle world, we’d’ve already had uprisings countless times over the years. This is the first bill that Hermione passed after becoming Minister. Do you really want to deal with her disappointment over its failure?”

“That’s hitting below the belt, Potter.”

“I had a bit of Voldemort’s soul leeching off of me for sixteen years. I guess some of his slimy Slytherin tendencies rubbed off.”

“Perhaps we should talk to Headmistress McGonagall about making you an honorary Slytherin, then. I’m sure she would be impressed.”

“Quit trying to change the subject. Do you have any suggestions?”

“Well, Potter, you’re in luck. I just so happen to be acquainted with the owners of Leucosia’s Isle. I’m quite sure that these, er, uncooperative heads of families are regular customers with unpaid accounts. If I were use these debts as leverage...”

“I somehow sense that these debts aren’t as innocent as running up a tab at the Leaky. But if Law-force clears it and it proves effective, then I’ll stay out of it. I can put my resources to better use than babysit a bunch of whining prats.”

Draco got up and headed toward the door. “I’ll have the proposal drawn up and delivered tomorrow. Incidentally, Hermione and I have still not heard back from at least half of your defunct DA about attending the wedding. Do remind them, will you? You don’t want an unhappy bride on your hands, seeing as you’re ‘the father’.”

***

“Home, at last! Not that I’m not happy for Hermione, but the wedding was just too big for my comfort level. I’ve lost track of how many people I shook hands with.” The blond wizard took his wife’s coat and hung it on the hook by the door.

“Well, the _Prophet_ will be hailing this the biggest social event of the year, for sure. Did you see all the photographers? Draco Malfoy will never be my favourite person in the world, but you certainly can’t fault him on his ability to throw a lavish and perfectly-executed party.”

“The important thing is that Hermione has found happiness with him. I would never have expected them to pair up, but... It was good to see both Harry and Ron give her away. She’s never gotten over losing her parents.”

“At least she doesn’t have to worry about disapproval from his parents.”

“True. Although, with Malfoy succeeding in putting the family name back into a place of prominence, I wonder how much opposition his parents could’ve put up. I’m still baffled as to what she sees in him, but she really seems happy. Let’s hope that the bliss will extend to her work schedule. She’s been overextending herself.”

“Yes. And exhausting the rest of us. Sadly, also causing a lot of discontent. Did you notice how few pure-bloods were in attendance tonight? I’m not just talking about the Slytherins and the former Voldemort supporters, either.”

“Yes. But I suppose it’s inevitable. As a class, pure-bloods have always been the last ones to accept changes in the social climate.”

“Well, Gran seems to be adjusting.”

“Gran had a bigger challenge trying to adjust to no longer seeing me as a disappointment, so nothing else could possibly compare.”

“Neville Longbottom! How dare you insult both yourself and Gran in the same breath!”

“Oh, come, Susan, it’s true—”

“It is not! And don’t you ever say something like that again! Else, I’ll lock you in a room of Fwoopers.”

“Have mercy, Creature Specialist Bones! Speaking of which, I was surprised to see Luna stay for the partying after Hermione and Malfoy’s Bonding ceremony. I know she hasn’t had a day-off ever since St. Francis’ opened two months ago. I figured she’d use the wedding as the perfect excuse to get in some relaxation time.”

“Well, you know how much she likes to dance. And the house is too quiet ever since Xenophilius passed away last year. I’m hoping that things at St. Francis’ will settle down in the next month so that both she and I can take a break. I’m appreciative that Hermione put us in charge of running the hospital, but I don’t deny that it has taken over my life. It’s a good thing you have classes and students to keep you just as occupied, Neville, otherwise, I’d be guilty of abandonment.”

“You’re there when it matters. Besides, with Amelia at Hogwarts with me, it is good to see you decide on this second career. You can still make use of your healing skills from your years at Mungo’s but at the same time fill the gap of missing expertise in caring for magical creatures.”

“Luna is an excellent teacher. Oh, Hagrid finally agreed to be a consultant for us.”

“Well, that wasn’t difficult, I’m sure. If he wasn’t so insistent about making sure Hogwarts is well-protected, he’d be the perfect Creature Specialist for St. Francis’.”

“We may yet convince him.”

“True. Now, shall we turn in, Mrs. Longbottom? I’ve missed cuddling my Creature Specialist.”

[5.]

> _“Is it better for a man to have chosen evil than to have good  
>  imposed upon him?”_
> 
> from _A Clockwork Orange_ by Anthony Burgess

“Ah, Malfoy, punctual as always.” Marcus Flint rose from his desk and shook hands firmly. 

“What people fail to realize is that Malfoys are only ‘fashionably late’ when having to attend tedious social functions. Anyone with decent competence at Potions knows that time is of the essence.”

“Jinxes and hexes as well.”

“Naturally. So, Flint, the books are in order?”

Flint’s face split into a shark-like smile. “Of course. I must say, Malfoy, it was a brilliant stroke to suggest that the Ministry Accounting Department be turned over to the goblins to manage. Things are marvellously efficient. And the Wizengamot was quite pleased with the quarterly report I gave them on Monday. The other Department Heads seem satisfied. Nott says that Mysteries hasn’t had its expense reports and invoices discharged so quickly and neatly. Of course, he grumbles that he and his colleagues need to make extra efforts on their annual budget proposals and quarterly special projects stipends, but that’s a small price to pay.”

Draco smirked. “Indeed. It’s the only way to keep things in the black. All those vague estimates and resulting surpluses that seem to get swallowed up mysteriously are things of the past.”

“Yes. Nowadays, we know exactly where the surpluses go. And can I say, again, how much I admire that ‘off the books’ contract you made up and got the goblins to sign? Magical Transport overestimated costs by quite a margin this quarter. The goblins were eyeing the Galleons greedily but knew they couldn’t work around the fixed twenty-percent cut. Any ideas how we should, er, allocate the excess funds?”

“I’m sure we can find some use for it. By the way, I overheard Watkins in Law-force talking with Yearwood from Magic Co-op; didn’t catch the entire conversation, but from the bits I heard, it seems there’s someone in Accounts who’s been snooping around the books. It’s a witch, though I didn’t get her name. She’s noticed that the monies from unclaimed employee benefits haven’t been accounted for. It doesn’t seem that she’s caught onto the budgetary surpluses, but we need to stop her before she gathers enough proof and an investigation is launched. Find out how much she knows, who else she’s spoken to, if she’s working alone or with others, and where she’s put the evidence. Leucosia’s Isle has only started gaining prestige. I don’t need anyone nosing into our finances and our true source of seed money. You know I always keep a stock of Veritaserum in my office.”

“Right. Leave that to me. Once I get everything out of her—and her friends, if there are any—and perform the Obliviation, I’ll talk to Zabini about how to fire her. He’s always been the most creative when it comes to these sorts of games.”

“With all those different stepfathers to have to negotiate with and manipulate, can you blame him?”

“Hey, there’s some rumour about another protester claiming to have evidence that Leucosia’s Isle isn’t the innocent exclusive club it claims to be. I don’t know if there’s any validity to that. Perhaps we’ll need to spend the Transport surplus on another mundane investigation and silencing project.”

“I’ll alert Knowles and Grant. Well, I assume that concludes our weekly meeting? Always a pleasure to speak with you, Flint.”

“Likewise, Malfoy. Give the Minister my best. Where are you taking her tonight?”

“She has a sudden craving for authentic sashimi. I’ve booked the Maruhachi in Maze.”

“Venturing into Muggle Japan? How times have changed. The young Draco would’ve been disgusted at even the suggestion of stepping foot into Muggle territory.”

“Malfoys are nothing if not adaptable. And a happy fiancée makes my life easier.”

“Can’t argue with that. Enjoy your raw fish. Better you than me.”

***

“Hermione! Do sit down. I was quite surprised when I received the request from your secretary. I hope everything is well at the Ministry?”

“It is, thank you, Minerva. I hope this is not a bad time—I gave strict instructions to Eve to make sure you didn’t think this was an urgent matter.”

“Oh, not at all. The _Prophet_ has been reporting on all your activities at the Ministry, so I was merely surprised you could find the time to come to Hogwarts.”

“Well... I’m not exactly here in an official capacity. I just wanted to make you aware that a new law is going to be passed next Tuesday that will set up a public trust fund to improve social infrastructure. The wizarding world must be one of the only remaining communities of means on the planet that doesn’t have a publicly-funded healthcare system. The non-magical people in our country have had it for decades. The fund will also provide assistance for the building and rebuilding of public works—Hogwarts falls into that category, of course, so please do submit requests for any reparational expenses.”

“That’s very generous of you, Hermione. I will have a look through the regulations when they become available.”

“The House-elf Pensions and Placements Agency will also draw their funding from the trust. I noticed from their recent reports that you haven’t submitted any paperwork for the house-elves here at Hogwarts.”

“I assure you that their pensions, should any of them choose to retire, will be given to them in full from the school’s Gringotts account—”

“Oh, I’m not accusing you of not paying them, Minerva. But the Agency _is_ set up specifically to care for the well-being of every elf in our community, so it’s only fair that Hogwarts show solidarity—”

“Of course. How do you plan to maintain your trust?”

“There’s a Muggle religious group that requires members above a certain income bracket to pay ten percent of their annual earnings to aid the unfortunates in their community. I’ve adopted that idea and will be passing a new income tax law for every individual whose annual income exceeds three thousand Galleons.”

“I see. You’re... certain you can convince the Wizengamot?”

“I _will_ need a strong argument, but I’ve been going over my points with Draco, and he’s suggested some key points that _should_ win them to my way of thinking.”

“In that case, I will look out for the announcement in the _Prophet_. I know your reforms stem from a desire to improve the lives of as many as possible, Hermione, but don’t forget that changes take time. And people can only handle new ideas in small doses.”

“Yes, thank you. I’m already working on as mild a scale as possible while still making sure the changes are effective. If I were a tyrant like Voldemort, I could’ve saved myself time and effort by unscrupulously applying the Imperius. I’m tempted sometimes to do just that because some people are just so blind. Draco says it’s typical Gryffindor to act first, question later. He’s been giving me lessons on Slytherin tactics, and I must admit, there’s some merit to them.”

Professor McGonagall smiled but did not further vocalize her thoughts. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a few portraits shaking their heads. Thankfully, they were not within Hermione’s line of vision. 

The Headmistress bid farewell to her former pupil with some carefully encouraging words and stared into the fire for some time after the Minister disappeared into the flames.

***

“What do you mean Hermione’s passed a new law requiring everyone to pay ten percent of their income to the Ministry?! That’s eating into our profits!” George groused at the dinner table.

“I told you: she wants to set up a trust that will improve the living standards of everyone in our community, especially those devastated by Voldemort’s second rising,” Percy replied. “And stop being so greedy: ten percent can hardly put a dent in your profits—Weazies has a monopoly now that you’ve bought out both Gambol and Japes and Zonko’s.”

“We didn’t buy them out,” Fred retorted. “Business hasn’t picked up since Harry bumped Voldemort off, so the five of us decided that it’d be better to share the profits between us than to shut down our shops. Ironic how, in ‘peaceful times’, joke products lose their appeal. Maybe we should create a dark lord to boost sales.”

Percy bit out, “It’s selfish and close-minded people like you two that are stopping progress! Do you know the Muggles have had free healthcare benefits for _decades_? We wouldn’t need to pay the Healers for every visit to St Mungo’s. We’d simply fill out some paperwork, and the money would be taken from the trust to cover the expense. I’m sure you haven’t forgotten how much Dad’s stay was for the snake bite.”

“You’re just siding with Hermione because she gave the go-ahead for your regulation on quills.”

“Yeah, our ‘Smart-Answer’ spells won’t work on the ‘improved’ ones from our supplier.”

“That regulation merely ensures the quality of the product! And if your spells won’t work, it’s likely you were given sub-standard quills to begin with, ones likely taken from non-magical creatures. That’s not a bad—”

“Whoa! Will you three give it a rest? We’re trying to eat,” Ron complained.

Charlie spoke up, “Yeah. And why are you two so hung up on this new law anyhow? It’s not just healthcare. The trust will help with Hogwarts’ upkeep and aid the orphanages and other charities focused on the rebuilding efforts. You’re usually more public-spirited. I gave such a loud ‘whoop’ when I read Ron’s letter about your U-Know-Poo ad that I scared the new Vipertooth that was visiting with its tamer.”

“We’re not against the ideology of the law, just the method of building the trust.”

“If she’d made a public plea and asked that people donate as much as they wished, we’d’ve gladly given twenty percent. But she clearly thinks very meanly of us all.”

Percy said, heatedly, “Well, she has every right to think that way. Many of the snotty pure-bloods would not part with a Sickle unless thus compelled. And the law is aimed mainly at them, in any case. Those whose annual income is less than three thousand Galleons are exempt.” 

“Then why not pass a law that requires that lot to pay twenty percent and the rest of us as much as we choose?”

“The Wizengamot would hardly agree to such blatant iniquity!” 

“The Wizengamot has yet to refuse her anything!”

“That’s because she isn’t unreasonable!”

Molly was finally fed up. “Will you boys shut up and let the rest of us eat in peace?!”

[4.]

> _“You must learn, child, that what would be wrong for you or for_  
>  _any of the common people is not wrong in a great Queen such as I._  
>  _The weight of the world is on our shoulders. We must be freed_  
>  _from all rules. Ours is a high and lonely destiny.”_
> 
> from _The Magician’s Nephew_ by C.S. Lewis

It was a long, stressful day after what seemed like years of planning, campaigning, and talking. But she had done it. After only two years of being a member of the Wizengamot, she, Hermione Granger, had become the new Minister for Magic. Just the thought of that title brought a huge grin to her face. She was the first female Muggle-born to succeed to office. _Oh, Mum and Dad would be so proud._

At that thought, the smile faltered a bit, but the sorrow of not being able to share this accomplishment with her parents was still not great enough to overcome the thrill of winning. Yes, winning. Not only was she the first female Muggle-born Minister, she had won a majority that set a new record in the Ministry’s history. 

Hermione stepped across the threshold into her new office. She paused, savouring the moment. She’d asked to have a few minutes alone to collect her thoughts and let the reality truly sink in. 

She suddenly turned and shut the door, locking it. She cast a strong Silencing Spell.

Stepping into the centre of the room, she stretched out her arms and twirled on the spot, laughing louder and louder until her voice sounded like cackling.

***

Draco winced as he heard the shrill of rage. Reluctant to put his breakfast aside but knowing he had to stem the flow of anger before it turned full-blown, he asked “What’s wrong?” as he dragged her into his lap.

“Argh! The Quibbler did a ‘survey’ and asked readers to rate the usefulness of the Public Opinion Office. Ninety-percent claim that their complaints are being ignored, eight-percent have always felt it a useless waste of resources and, therefore, have never submitted anything, one-percent prefer to send their complaints to the _Prophet_ , and… wait a minute, there’s still one-percent that’s not accounted for!”

“Well, you know, maths have never been Loony’s strong suit.” Draco continued to trace soothing circles across her back.

“But these are blatant lies! I just received the report from the Opinion office that said that all complaints are being properly looked over and forwarded to the relevant departments, that their turnover time is three to four business days because of the volume, and that they never allow the backlog to exceed one pound of parchment per day. I’ve charmed their inbox, so I _know_ they’re not submitting false information just to keep me quiet. Hmph! The Quibbler may have always published articles about creatures whose existence is dubious, but at least it never tried to inflame the public with such outrageous claims!”

“Don’t worry your head about them. Despite that article about Tainted Potter that you got Skeeter to write, The Quibbler still hasn’t gained the respectability of other magazines like Witch Weekly. So, ignore it.”

“No. There are still some who will believe anything so long as it’s in print. Remember that article two months ago about the boy at camp who claimed his rooms were deliberately set on fire? And that he was being bullied by some older boys? More lies! The camp leaders assured me that it was an accident, just a candle that got tipped over. As for the bullying, I find it hard to believe, especially since the claim is that it’s about blood purity. The camp is run by wizards and witches with at least one Muggle-born parent. There’s _no way_ that they’d let these ideas be perpetuated. The camp was _purposely designed_ to dispel these prejudices! So, for The Quibbler to suggest… _hmph!_ It may have been one of the few that did speak truths against Voldemort’s regime while Harry, Ron, and I were searching for the Horcruxes, but that was only because Harry was a friend. Once Voldemort was defeated, it went back to the typical anti-establishment tone. I’m finally beginning to see trust being returned to the Ministry; I _won’t_ let the survey ruin things!”

“But if you try to refute the article, you’d only draw attention to it.”

“I _don’t_ plan to give any acknowledgement whatsoever. I plan on finding a means of shutting it down without making it seem like I’m meddling. I just don’t know what exactly, yet.”

“Have I ever told you how sexy you are when your Slytherin-esque brain works overtime?”

She giggled. “Even more sexy than when I’m naked and straddling you?”

“Almost as.”

“And I always thought you so shallow.”

“Good to know I wasn’t the only prejudiced—Ow!”

“Now, what could I possibly use to distract Luna from publishing more issues of The Quibbler?”

“Didn’t you say she was complaining about the Magical Menagerie’s inability to treat injured creatures bigger than your orange furball and that she wished her backyard was bigger so she could have her own treatment facility? Why not build her a Mungo’s for the beasts?”

“That’s it! We’ll build it near Mungo’s—there’s an empty piece of land that has too many restrictions on it but should allow the building of a shelter for animals. I’ll get Law-force to look over the details once I get to the office. And I’ll ask Quigley to suggest Creature Keepers who’d be able to help run the facility. Oh, I know, let’s call it St. Francis’ Sanctuary for Magical Creatures!”

“Let’s get the motion passed through the Wizengamot first, Madam Minister. We can decide on a name later.”

“But St. Francis is the perfect name!”

“Of course it is, but let’s focus on getting the project approved first. It’ll cost money, and Accounting has been much more stringent about budgets.”

“And so they should. But it’s worth the increased efficiency.”

“Now, if we could just get rid of the mounds of paperwork that’s still dragging everyone down…”

“There are certain procedures that have to be followed to ensure things are done properly. Otherwise, there are too many loopholes. Are why are you complaining? I’m _certain_ that paperwork was invented by a Slytherin.”

“Perhaps. But _I’m_ also certain that the wizard who proposed the Auror Office was a Gryffindor.”

“Because they’re fearless, law-abiding, and protectors of the weak?”

“NO! Because they don’t know how to mind their own business!”

“Has Ron said something to offend you?”

“Has he ever said anything that didn’t offend anyone? Ow!”

“Pots and kettles, Mr. Malfoy.”

“I love you. Ow! I make a declaration and am given abuse in return. You’re such a difficult, petulant witch to please.”

“It wasn’t sincere, just a ploy to aggravate me. I’m not a Huff—I mean, I—”

“ _Now_ who’s the one calling Puffleduffs stupid? _Ungh!_ ”

Hermione had moved so that she was straddling him. She elicited the moan by a quick movement of her hips. “Two can play the manipulation game,” she whispered as she bit his earlobe.

Hermione received an incredulously raised eyebrow when she finally appeared at the office a half-hour late.

***

When Hermione was certain that Draco was asleep, she carefully took his hand into hers and stared. It had taken some time at first, but they had managed to reach that stage in their relationship where a comfortable trust was firmly established and neither would suddenly jerk awake at the slightest sound or touch. War always wreaked such havoc.

Hermione lightly traced the outline of his fingers from thumb to little finger. Draco had such beautiful hands. “Aristocratic”. Long, slender fingers, prominent though not unsightly knuckles, soft, smooth skin unmarred even from long-term use of a wand and other activities, like Quidditch, that usually left their mark. He always made sure his fingernails were neatly trimmed, as well; she now traced the translucent, pearly-white lunulae, marvelling at their perfect, semi-circular shapes. She turned his hand so that the palm faced upwards. She ran a finger along each deep line etched into the surface, noting how far they spanned his palm and seeing the myriad of fainter lines that criss-crossed, bisected, or branched off. Hermione didn’t any more believe in Palmistry than she did Divination, so the lines meant nothing to her beyond the fact that they belonged to Draco Malfoy and were as fascinating as the rest of his hand.

Hermione raised and pressed the warm palm against her cheek, leaning into it. She sighed contently. His fingers flexed involuntarily, cupping her cheek and brushing her eyelashes, as if he sensed her adulation. A smug prat, even in sleep. She grinned.

After admiring the hand for a few moments more, Hermione lowered his arm and snuggled into his side, resting her head on his shoulder. Again, as if sensing her need, the arm she’d released pulled her closer against him. 

She let his steady heartbeat lull her to sleep.

[3.]

> _“Beware; for I am fearless, and therefore powerful.”_
> 
> from _Frankenstein_ by Mary Shelley

Hermione entered the Head Auror’s office with a bit of trepidation. The interoffice memo had only said that an urgent meeting was required, but she suspected she knew the reason she’d been summoned. 

The door locked shut behind her and the sudden muffling effect warned of a powerful Silencing Charm being placed on it.

Hermione squared her shoulders and stepped toward the desk. She suddenly grinned. “Good to know you’ve completely mastered Non-Verbal Spells, Harry.”

Harry looked at her blearily and did not return the grin. “Why, Hermione?” he asked tiredly. He gestured at the front page of the _Prophet_.

“I didn’t have anything to do with that Skeeter woman’s article!”

Harry gave her a look of disbelief. “Really? You know, not that many people know the details about how I got the scar on my left hand. And reading through the article, it sounds more like the ‘exclusive interview’ printed in The Quibbler in Fifth than it does Skeeter’s typical style of reporting. And I’ve read enough of her stuff over the years.”

“Well, she told me she was writing an exposé on Umbridge and asked if I had anything to dish from the year she was Headmistress. I merely negotiated to get a read-through of her final draft to make sure she didn’t slander everyone like she normally does. Besides, she found out about the scar from someone else; I just—”

“You just confirmed it and once again got me onto the front page. I thought those days were over.”

Hermione scoffed. “You’ll always be featured in the _Prophet_ , even if you don’t make the front page. Wait ’til some nosy reporter finds out Ginny’s pregnant again. Look on the bright side: at least they printed a decent picture of you.”

“Don’t try to steer the focus away, Hermione. I interrogate people for a living, you know.”

“And you do an exemplary job of it, too.”

Harry groaned. “You’ve been spending too much time in Wizengamot meetings. You’re starting to sound like them. And stop changing the subject. _Why_ are you helping Skeeter with this exposé?”

“Are you _defending_ Umbridge?”

“Of course not!”

“And you don’t feel she deserves to get sacked and sent to Azkaban? You were there to witness her interrogations of Muggle-borns! You know about the series of anti-werewolf laws that affected Lupin. Don’t forget she was the one that sent that Dementor when you were with the Dursleys. And have you read the bit about how she would torture those poor puppies?”

“I agree that she’s finally gotten her rightful punishment. But you’re a member of the Wizengamot. Surely getting evidence for a proper trial is the better way?”

“Fat lot of good that would’ve done. She managed to stay a Ministry employee, didn’t she? And even though it wasn’t a powerful position, she would’ve eventually wormed her way up and back into the Wizengamot. There are still a lot of people who can be bribed or threatened and willing to turn a blind eye.”

“So, you plan to single-handedly get rid of all of them?”

“Of course not! There aren’t enough hours in a day to weed them out even if I tried.”

“Hermione, I know you mean well. Just… try not to make too many enemies.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve been quietly observing the Wizengamot and all the Heads of Departments for years—don’t forget, I saw their nasty sides while working as a minion. If I had plans to rule the world, I’d have enough dirt on them to make them beg for mercy.”

“Be sure to warn me of that inevitability, will you? I’d rather not be on the wrong side of your wrath.”

“Very funny. If that is all, Head Auror Potter?”

“Yes, that’s all, Madam Granger. See you at lunch?”

***

CRASH!

Draco ran into the kitchen. “Are you all—? You’re not normally so clumsy, love. Is everything all right at work?”

Hermione tried cleaning up the mess and repairing the smashed tray of tea things. With no success. “Argh! What is wrong with my wand?”

“It has mood swings and is unpredictable—don’t forget who its original owner was.” Draco took hold of the wand and used his own to tidy up. He left the tray atop the kitchen table and led Hermione into the living room. “Work has been stressful and you’re just suffering from fatigue. Just… sit and relax. We can have tea later. I still don’t understand why you kept this rotten stick.”

“Wands aren’t evil, only their wielders. It’s been working well enough for me, so I haven’t bothered. Besides, I think it a good idea to at least try to neutralize its evil-doing before retiring it.”

Draco shook his head in bemusement. “Gryffindors.”

Hermione huffed. “As you say, I’m probably just stressed from work. Maybe I should look into exercises in meditation. Those ought to alleviate the sudden tremors.”

“So, this is not the first time you felt them?”

“They’re rare and intermittent, and this is the first time they’ve ever been this strong. Didn’t really notice until about two months ago, but I thought they were just side effects of the coffee.”

“You’ve been drinking coffee _and_ tea?”

“No more than three a day! The caffeine helps me focus.”

“Three cups in total or three cups each?” When Hermione hesitated in replying, Draco sighed. “We are going to cut back on the caffeine intake to stop the tremors. Otherwise, our manipulative fiancé is going to book a mandatory stay for health at Mungo’s. And he will get extra support by informing all our friends of our condition.”

“That’s dirty pool! Slytherins!”

“Now, do we have an agreement, or will I have to prove I was Sorted into the right House?”

“Fine.”

***

A stunned silence followed Hermione’s announcement.

Ginny was the first to recover her wits. “So, ’Mione, what you’re saying is that this educational camp is _mandatory_ for all Muggle-borns who just received their Hogwarts letter?”

“Oh, well, if you _have_ to put it that way! But it’ll put them on more even footing with the other children who would’ve had at least _some_ exposure to magic and our world! I could’ve used such a resource when I first found out!”

“I’m not arguing about the usefulness, but being _forced_ to learn everything in one month—most will probably still be trying to accept their new reality!”

Ron spoke up. “And what’s the point of ‘encouraging’ pure-bloods to attend the camp? Surely they don’t need to learn about our world.”

“No, they’re there to learn how to interact with kids outside their own circles and from different backgrounds. The problem with being fed prejudices is that you don’t have any evidence to the contrary. If they can spend time just getting to know other children with… mixed parentage, then they’ll hopefully learn to get along. And what’s even better”—She stopped Harry from making a comment—“is that they won’t have been Sorted yet. So, they’d be more receptive to interhouse cooperation, having become friends first.”

Harry shook his head. “Malfoy and I weren’t Sorted when we met in Madam Malkin’s, but I knew I could never be friends with him. Back then, anyway. Not that we’re friends now, so stop grinning.”

“Yeah, ’Mione, Harry an’ I are only putting up with the git because you cast some nasty hexes. Ow!”

Ginny snorted. “Well, you deserved that hex for sure, Ronnie.”

“Shut it, Rolling Pin.”

Harry chortled. “I’ve never heard that nickname before! Why ‘rolling pin’?”

“Gin used to tumble a lot when she was little—the stairs, the hill behind the house that we’d go for picnics; if there was a way she could roll down something, she did. It started off as Rolling Gin but somehow got morphed to Rolling Pin.”

Ginny glared but then turned her attention back to Hermione. “Your idea’s a good one in theory, ’Mione, but I’m not sure how practical it would be. I’m still bothered by the forced attendance. And you know it’s not that easy to expect people to just give up their prejudices because they were told they’re wrong. Pure-bloods may not all be as adamant about blood purity, but it doesn’t mean they’ve completely changed their minds.”

“I don’t expect them to, but if we give them more ways to break down the barriers, surely that’s a good thing?”

Ron suddenly gave her a solemn look. “And when the time comes, is Malfoy going to let his sprog attend the camp? Ow, Ginny!”

Ginny scoffed. “Hermione and Malfoy’s sprog will be _running_ the camp, you daft git!”

“I have to agree with Ginny on that. Though the poor kid: knowing that his or her mummy is in love with such a bigoted—kidding, ’Mione, kidding!” Harry ducked the spell just in time. He Disarmed Hermione and kept her wand out of reach. “You’ll get it back before you leave. I don’t remember you being this violent in school. Must be Malfoy’s bad influence.”

Hermione huffed. Then, she smirked. “Ginny, did I ever tell you about the time Harry paid me a visit while I was working in Acts and Cacks—”

“You can have your wand back!” Harry practically shoved it into her hands. 

Just then, a cry could be heard from the nursery, and Ginny got up from the table to tend to the baby. 

Harry frowned at the grinning Hermione. “Definitely Slytherin.”

[2.]

> _“But this I will say to you: your Quest stands upon the edge of a knife._  
>  _Stray but a little and it will fail, to the ruin of all.”_
> 
> from _The Fellowship of the Ring_ by J.R.R. Tolkien

“This is an interesting choice of venue, Hermione.” 

“Oh, stop pretending to be such a toff about eating at a Muggle restaurant.”

“It’s not the Muggle-ness that is bothering me, as well you know.”

“Would it kill you to eat at a not-ranked-in-the-top-fifty place? It’s not as if I dragged you into a McDonald’s.”

“I would have refused to step foot into one. I’d rather suffer Potter’s cooking.”

“So, you admit that you _did_ like the dinner Harry made.”

“I’m admitting to nothing of the sort.”

“Fine. Retain your Slytherin delusions. We’ve got more important things to talk about.”

“Like the fact that the involuntary trembling you’ve been exhibiting ever since I arrived at your flat is most probably a symptom of some unconfirmed mental condition? Ow! Isn’t there a law against spells in the presence of Muggles?”

“We’re in a secluded corner, and there’s enough chatter around us that no one will notice anything we say or do. Ah! _Now_ who’s the one doing the magic? Stop it! My areolas are still sore from last night.”

“No one will notice anything you’re saying, so be a big girl and call them ‘nipples’.”

“Prat! Anyway, my involuntary trembling, as you dubbed it, is not from a mental condition but just from excitement. Madam Plunkett-Wortley arranged a meeting for me with Madam Wandesforde-Anstruther-Pilkington this morning. Apparently, Madam Wandesforde-Anstruther-Pilkington wants to hire a new assistant and has been eyeing me for a few months!”

“Congratulations, love! Wanderpilk—hey, do _you_ want to keep saying that mouthful?—can help you expand your connections. Pluckwart was a good first step to helping improve the interpersonal skills and building your network, but she doesn’t have the clout. As Wanderpilk’s assistant, you’ll be sitting in on Wizengamot policy-making sessions. You’ll be able to see how they go about passing motions and laws.”

“I can’t wait! I’m starting with her the beginning of next month.”

“Well, this calls for a toast. Had I known that this was not merely your attempt to ask me out on a date, for a change, I would’ve insisted on a place with a better wine selection.”

“You thought _I_ —if I _were_ to plan a date with you, rest assured that I would plan it so well that you’d be hard-pressed to top me!”

“I’ve topped you more than once, if you recall.”

“Ugh! Will you be serious? This is the turning point in my career, and all you can talk about is sex!”

Draco shushed her, drawing light circles on the backs of hands before bringing them to his lips. “You’re just too easy to rile, love. I’m very happy for you. Now, start deciding what you want for dinner. We’ll need to talk about inconsequential things if we don’t want to further risk breaking the Statute of Secrecy. I see why you chose this restaurant: they have a lemon meringue dessert. You’ll want a light entrée, then, to save room. We’ll have after-dinner drinks at the manor. Oh, and sex will be your midnight snack, so try not to use up all your energy talking my ear off.” He smirked.

***

Hermione giggled as she watched the Howler turn to ash. Well, this was certainly an interesting and possibly the snarkiest proposal in the history of proposals! Only Draco Malfoy would think to give a marriage proposal by Howler.

It was oddly appropriate. Their first interaction post-war had been after he’d sent that Howler apologizing for his awful behaviour toward her. She found out at that year’s New Year’s Eve party that Harry, Dean, Luna, and Neville had also received similar Howlers and, with the exception of Luna, were completely baffled by them. And when she went back to Hogwarts for second term, he’d Owl’d her, and they’d started a correspondence. Hermione grinned as she recalled the handful of Howlers she’d sent him whenever he sounded moody in his letters. It seemed he appreciated her thoughtfulness—even a bellowing voice issued from a Howler was still a voice, some sort of sound to break the dismal silence.

Now, Hermione waited. After ten minutes, there was still no sign of him. She frowned at the pile of charred bits. “How am I supposed to say ‘yes’ if no one is here to hear it?” But it seemed that the she had finally said the magic word. The burnt remains suddenly Transfigured into a deep velvet-blue ring box. Nestled inside was ring shaped as a snake holding up a single, brilliant diamond. It fit itself perfectly to her finger as she put it on.

Finally, she heard the unmistakable *pop* and turned to see Draco, a wide grin on his face, standing with a bouquet of her favourite Forget-Me-Nots.

***

Hermione slammed shut the heavy tome and coughed as the dust splattered her face. Fuming, she flicked her wand to move the book to the reshelving trolley, not caring that it landed on an awkward angle. If it weren’t illegal, she’d gladly burn the offending item. Huffing, she tripled underlined the last item on her list, still in disbelief that the law that allowed Muggle-borns to be sent to lifetime imprisonment without trial if suspected of spreading The Plague had never been abolished. She had expected the archaic laws regarding couverture and other discriminations against women to still be in existence, if not as actively enforced, but that no Muggle-born working in Law-force ever noticed the stupid law and tried to have it repealed was ridiculous! Hecate’s halitosis, they may only have had one, but the Ministry had been headed by a _Muggle-born_ Minister of Magic almost half a century ago. _Surely_ …

Hermione took a deep breath. Madam Wanderpilk—oh no! She had to stop using that blasted nickname—damn the Slytherin prat for coming up with it!—Madam W-A-P would surely see the injustice of the law and raise the issue at the next weekly Wizengamot council. Going through her long list again, Hermione decided to only bring to Madam’s attention three other laws that should have long ago been formally made illegal: couverture, the barring of half-bloods from becoming Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic, and the immunity from prosecution of owners who inflicted “moderate physical discipline” on magical creatures who were pets, even if it resulted in death.

_If I ever become Minister for Magic, I’m going to make sure_ all _these barbaric laws are eliminated!_

[1.]

> _“I have love in me the likes of which you can scarcely imagine and_  
>  _rage the likes of which you would not believe. If I cannot satisfy the_  
>  _one, I will indulge the other.”_
> 
> from _Frankenstein_ by Mary Shelley

Hermione stood before the wrought-iron gates and shivered. She still suffered from nightmares of her last “visit” to Malfoy Manor. Another flash recalling the pain from the Cruciatus made her gasp. Why was she here? It was Christmas Eve, and while home was a cold, empty shell without her parents, she at least had memories of happier times spent there. This dark, haunted place, on the other hand... 

She took a deep breath to calm herself. No, she could not leave. Not after that Howler she’d just received. 

Lifting her chin determinedly, she placed the tip of the wand into the slot to announce her presence, making sure no part of her bare skin came into contact with the gate. The house-elf who appeared behind the iron bars was startled when they made eye contact, but he (or was it she? It was always so difficult to tell from appearances) solemnly let her through and led her past the front door, down the long hallway, and paused a moment to knock at a dark, wooden door with elaborate handle before ushering her into a private study.

Slouched into the depths of a soft leather armchair, two empty Firewhiskey bottles by his feet, was a very obviously drunk Draco Malfoy.

He opened bleary eyes at the soft “Master has a guest; Gertie go prepares tea” and snorted when he laid eyes on the bushy-hair and disapproving scowl of Hermione Granger. “Just my luck. Of _course_ you would come. Where’re Potty and the Weasel King? Too busy snogging to come and gloat?”

“Hmph. I don’t know why I even bothered. Clearly, I was mistaken to think that the Howler’s apology was sincere.”

“What Howl—Oh, fuck me! That wasn’t a bad dream, then. Well, that proves one thing: as soon as I’m sober, I’m getting rid of all the Firewhiskey in the house. It’s bad for my constitution.”

“So, you’re rescinding your words?”

“No—I mean, the sentimental bits I will for sure—Oh, fuck it, I’m sorry, all right? I’m sorry I was a git and an insufferable snob. Just... you’re only hearing that once from me. Once I’ve sobered up, you can forget—Gertie! A Sobering Potion!”

A soft *pop* announced Gertie’s presence. She carried a tray laden with dainty tea things and a sealed, beige-brown bottle. This she handed to Draco as soon as she’d set the tray on the side table. She curtseyed and disappeared when Draco waved her away. He unstoppered the bottle and tossed back its contents.

Draco abruptly sat upright, shaking his head to clear it. His surprise became a glower when he noticed the other presence in the room. “What are you doing here, Granger? Were you not paying attention during my trial? I’m not allowed any visitors, in case one of them is conspiring to help me escape.”

“I’m not one of your cronies, so I present no threat. Besides, it’s Christmas Eve; I doubt anyone at the Ministry could be bothered. But in case you’re worried for your skin, I can hex anyone who does show. And I’ll tell whoever it is about the letter—show the memory if further convincing is required. It’s not every day that one hears a Malfoy apologize. It’ll most certainly count toward any ‘good behaviour’ points you’re supposed to be accruing.”

“Granger, what the hell are you rambling about?”

“How much of the past hour do you recall, Malfoy?”

“I remember everything. I was having a quiet drink by the fire. I—Paracelsus’ putrid pits!” He groaned and buried his face in his hands. 

“Well, I see no reason to prolong the agony, now that you’ve recovered from your bout of uncharacteristic repentance. Regardless, I accept your apology, however it was meant. I never really blamed you for Dumbledore’s death—it couldn’t’ve been of your own volition. And as for your bigoted notions of blood supremacy, I think we’ve all been through enough to know what truly defines a great wizard and witch.” Hermione waited a moment and, when no response came, headed toward the door. Before turning the handle, she turned back and said, “Happy Christmas, Malfoy.”

“Wait! Don’t go!”

In years to come, Draco would never be able to fully reconcile himself for this sudden outburst. 

There was an uncomfortable silence that seemed to stretch on forever. Finally, Hermione moved toward the fire and sat in the unoccupied armchair across from him.

“So... the Potty Liberator and the Weasel King abandon you for a romp in the sheets?”

“No! Don’t be crass, Malfoy! We decided that Christmas Eve would be spent with our respective families. We’ll see each other at Ron’s parents’ place tomorrow.”

“Then why are you here?”

“My—my parents are in Australia. I—I’d placed a Memory Charm on them during the war and sent them as far away as possible to protect them from… from Voldemort. They—I couldn’t reverse the Obliviation Spell. I sent them to Port Douglas; they always wanted to see the Great Barrier Reef. I made sure they had enough money to settle into a new life for a few years. But I couldn’t find them when I got there in July. I finally tracked them down using the GPS on their mobiles—they’d moved to Sydney and set up a practice—they’re dentists, Healers that specialize in teeth.” Hermione’s narration had quickly gained speed, but at the point, she halted and a sob escaped. “They seemed so... happy that I just... let them continue their lives without me.” She stared into her lap, trying hard to hold back her tears.

“At least they’re still alive. And sane, despite the memory modification.” Draco’s quiet reply startled her into looking up.

“I’m—I’m sorry, Malfoy. Um—I—”

Draco gave a wry grin. “You Gryffindors. Sometimes, you really—Well, the Ministry needed to appease the masses, and my father was an obvious and easy target. Even if they hadn’t administered the Kiss, he would have rotted away in Azkaban until he became a raving lunatic like Aunt Bella. He’s better off like this, unlike my mother...”

“I’m very sorry about your mother, Malfoy. Did—have the Healers said anything about her chances of recovering?”

“No. Quite sure she’s staying permanently on the Thickey Ward. Saw ol’ Lockhart there when I was allowed to visit that one time. He apparently has grown quite enamoured of Mother and goes often to chat.”

“Is she, um, otherwise in good health?”

“Other than being completely unhinged, she’s in perfect health. Will likely outlive me.”

“That’s a morbid way to look at it.”

“Why pretend things will get better? Even when my house arrest is over, do you think I’ll have any chance at a new life, former Death Eater that I am? I don’t even know if I still have a Galleon to my name. I have ownership of the manor—the blood magic’s too strong for the Ministry to acquire it while an heir still lives—but I’ll just likely rot here. Not that different from being in Azkaban, really.”

“You’ve been alone with your thoughts for too long, Malfoy. You’re going to drive yourself insane this way. I’m sure things aren’t as bleak as you think. We didn’t win the war to have things even worse than they were under Voldemort’s regime. And stop wincing at the name. Get used to the fact that he’s truly dead. You’ll never get out of his clutches if you continue to fear the mere sound of his name.”

“That’s easy for you to say, Granger. You didn’t share the same roof with him. You didn’t see him taunt, torture, and kill. You didn’t have to endure him worming his way into your mind.” He shuddered.

“All the more reason to try and let those memories fade. I never said it’d be easy. But the nightmares won’t... stop unless—”

“Pots and kettles, Granger.”

She shot him an angry glare. “At least I’m trying! And I don’t feel the pain and hear your aunt’s voice every night—” She pressed her lips into a tight line.

“Ah, yes. That was her specialty, that Curse.”

“So I’m told.”

Another awkward silence ensued. 

Finally, Hermione got slowly up. “Thank you for tea, Malfoy. It’s getting—I should be going.” She hesitated, unsure if she should offer a handshake. While trying to fumble for something appropriate to say, she suddenly said in a rush, “Owl me if you feel you need someone to talk to.” 

She never figured out why she made that offer, but as soon as she realized what had escaped her lips, she hurriedly left the room.

***

“Who are you writing to, Hermione?”

Hermione hastily covered her bit of parchment before Ginny could have a good look at its contents. “No one. I’m just doing some homework for Arithmancy.”

“You told me yesterday that you’d finished. And if it really were homework, you wouldn’t need to hide it from me.”

Hermione cursed her stupidity. Making sure they could not be overheard, she told Ginny, quietly, “Don’t tell Harry or Ron. I’m—I’ve been corresponding with Malfoy.” She paused, expecting a shriek or some sort of vocal indication of disbelief. There was none, though Ginny looked quite stunned. “He—he sent me a drunk Howler over Christmas hols, apologizing for being a bigoted git. I—I don’t even know why I did it—just an impulse—I guess I was restless and missing my parents… I showed up at the manor, and we talked for a bit, and before I left, I… sort of said he could Owl me if he needed someone to talk to.”

Ginny’s jaw, by this point, was hanging as low as it possibly could. It took her several minutes to regain her powers of speech. “I take it he took you up on your offer?”

“Yes.”

Ginny shook her head. “You’re too kind-hearted, ’Mione. After what happened last year when Snape and the Carrows ran the school and what we found out from Harry about Dumbledore… I saw for myself how scared and haunted he looked—never thought I’d feel pity for a Malfoy… But still, I don’t know if I could just forgive him because he asked, never mind become a pen pal.”

“We’ve all made mistakes.” 

Ginny hugged her. “Oh, ’Mione, stop blaming yourself. You did what was best to keep them safe. At least they’re alive and well, not like…” It was nine months since they’d lost Arthur, and no one in the family was yet able to say his name out loud. Molly would still burst into tears at random times.

The girls hugged each other tightly before finally separating. A silent agreement was reached: they would not discuss this particular extra-curricular activity of Hermione’s again and Ginny would keep silent on the matter.

***

Draco raised an eyebrow as Hermione stormed out of the fireplace and huffed into the armchair across from him. “Tea, Hermione? Or perhaps something stronger?”

“May as well be a Firewhiskey or something equally strong. I’m _this_ close to sending an owl with my resignation letter. I’ve already written and sealed it.”

“And you’re here because you need my approval for such a rash act?”

“You’re the only one who can be objective about it. The others are either too entangled in Ministry politics or too brainwashed, having completely accepted the propaganda of an improved society. How can they be so blind? Harry and Ron, especially; they’ve been at the Ministry for a year longer than me, and I’ve been there for seven years! And all dead-end administrative jobs. 

“I haven’t worked in every department, but I’ve certainly worked on every floor! I can’t even list all of them anymore without consulting my resumé—there was Muggle Liaison, the first one that accepted my application a month after I got my NEWTs results, then Acks and Cacks, an appropriate name, more so for the mess within than the magical accidents that they’re supposed to handle, then the few in-between that were so short-lived and forgettable that I can’t even name them, and then the final ones: Reverse and Obliviate, Transport, and, if I’m still showing up for work tomorrow, Trading Standards. All got what they needed out of me, then it was ‘goodbye and thanks for all the fish’. 

“And it was always the same crap they spewed at me whenever they pushed me elsewhere: ‘Such-and-such office could really use your skills to help them tidy up their mess’ or ‘My friend from this department has an opening that’s just perfect for your abilities’ or ‘You’ve made this office run so efficiently that I feel we can no longer offer you any new scope, and it would be terribly selfish to hold you back from new opportunities’. That last one! Almost always paired with ‘This new position will allow you to move up the ranks, and who knows, in a few years, you may be running the department; we all must eventually retire’. I’ve been stuck with the title of Assistant to the Deputy Head of the Department for three years. The few times any Head of Department has retired, his successor is always someone he knows and often not even a member of the same Department and is, therefore, clueless about how the office works! Why did I even bother to do things properly: complete a seventh year, write my NEWTs, apply for an entry-level position, and slowly get the promotions after proving my merits and qualifications for the job.” At this point, Hermione slumped into the armchair with a defeated sigh. 

Draco frowned. The house-elf had brought in the tea things, and he held out a cup, which Hermione accepted with a feeble “thanks”. “Hermione, stop whining and just send the owl. Tomorrow, make an appointment with the Minister or a member of the Wizengamot that you know and guilt him or her into giving you whatever position you think you deserve. No, don’t interrupt! I don’t even know why you let them get away with taking advantage of you like this for so long. Must be some sort of Gryffindor defect. You can be as idealistic as you want about how our world _should_ work, but hasn’t reality proven that it’s not what you know but who you know? Open your eyes and face the facts: if you want to get ahead, you should do what everyone else has been doing all along, which is to use your connections and your status as a war heroine to get the job you want. Potter, despite his successful bid at modesty, is already Deputy Head Auror, and everyone knows that in a few years’ time, he’ll be Head. Weasel King is going to be taking his place for sure. Bespectacled Weasel is Senior Undersecretary, McLaggen is Deputy for Games and Sports. Even _Pucey’s_ gotten high enough in Magical Law because his family didn’t openly declare support for the Dark Lord—oh fine, _Voldemort_. And I’m sure you could list many more in higher positions than you’ve achieved that you _know_ did not get there solely on merit.” 

Hermione digested his words for a few minutes. “You’re right, Draco.”

“I would like that in writing, if you please.”

Hermione chuckled weakly. “Prat. No, you’re right. I should’ve given up my naïveté long ago. It’s not as if I don’t see for myself how much hypocrisy there is. And things don’t ever miraculously get better just because the enemy’s been defeated.”

“Finally sounding like a sensible person. Knew you could do it.”

“Oh, shut it.”

[0.]

> _'It's a poor sort of memory that only works backwards,' the Queen  
>  remarked._
> 
> _'What sort of things do_ you _remember best?' Alice ventured to ask._
> 
> _'Oh, things that happened the week after next,' the Queen replied in_  
>  _a careless tone. 'For instance, now,' she went on, sticking a large_  
>  _piece of plaster on her finger as she spoke, 'there's the King's_  
>  _Messenger. He's in prison now, being punished: and the trial_  
>  _doesn't even begin till next Wednesday: and of course the crime_  
>  _comes last of all.'_
> 
> _'Suppose he never commits the crime?' said Alice._
> 
> _'That would be all the better, wouldn't it?' the Queen said, as she_  
>  _bound the plaster round her finger with a bit of ribbon._
> 
> from _Through the Looking Glass_ by Lewis Carroll

The blinding whiteness of pain had finally receded enough for Hermione to once again be aware of who and where she was. Her whole body was still in spasms, and although she was helpless to wipe away the sweat, the tears, and the cooling mucus from her nose, she knew she must look a fright. She kept her eyes closed but her ears open—she needed to make sure that Bellatrix Lestrange wasn’t going to inflict yet another agonizing bout of torture upon her. As she strained her mind to focus on the sounds around her, she could detect murmurs of voices above her, including that of her tormentor, but for the moment, at least, the focus had shifted away from Hermione. After waiting several minutes in fear that she would once again be placed under the Cruciatus, Hermione breathed a small, painful sigh of relief that she was being let alone. 

Exhaustion hit and sat like a dead weight over her. Struggle as she might, she could not stop her mind from drifting into semi-consciousness.

She found herself dressed exactly as the Alice in her copy of _Through the Looking Glass_. She wandered the flat landscape of the coloured illustrations until she suddenly found herself in the parlour of the White Queen. The White Queen was refreshing herself with some tea, and from the state of her attire, she had given up trying to get properly dressed. 

“Ah, you’re just in time for tea. Please, do sit. And do place an extra napkin upon your nap, for I am about to spill some of your tea onto you. Oh dear! Just as I’d said!”

Hermione tidied up the mess as best she could—thank goodness her magic worked here!—and helped herself to a lump of sugar and a slice of lemon. 

“Well, my dear Queen Alice, tell me all about your new plans!”

“When I return to my world, I’m going to make sure that Harry does defeat Voldemort. Then, I’m going back to Hogwarts so that I can sit my NEWTs and then start at the Ministry. I’ll do things properly, starting at the bottom, so that I can make sure that changes will happen on all levels. This backward society needs a complete overhaul. And once I’m able to help with policy-making, the first thing I’m going to do is put a taboo on the Cruciatus Curse so that the perpetrator can be found right away and properly punished. When I first learned about the Kiss, I couldn’t agree with it on principle, but I think I can see justifications for its use in certain cases. And they’ll see—I’ll make them see—just how wrong they are to hold onto their antiquated ideas about blood purity and the superiority of wizards to all other creatures.”

“Well then, best to adopt our practice of punishing the crime first. What is that funny saying that you told me the other day, ‘an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure’, wasn’t it? That is what needs to be done. You wouldn’t have to worry about future infringements of the law. It certainly saves on the medication you’d have to take before all the headaches and screaming today. Yes, indeed. Now, you haven’t forgotten about giving tomorrow’s jam to your maid?”

Before Hermione could reply, she felt a sudden, unpleasant sensation of vertigo; she simultaneously heard a thunderous noise and felt the weight of what seemed like a load of rocks with pointed edges dig into the flesh of her back. Pain! What was going on? But even as she tried to sort out the confusion, a small part of her mind registered relief that the pain wasn’t from the Cruciatus, so at least whoever her new tormentor was, it was not Bellatrix Lestrange.

But then, there was Ron’s voice screaming and asking if she was all right. She became dimly aware of being dug out of the rubble. She was quite conscious by the time the nauseating sensation of Side-Along Apparition passed and she found herself in Bill’s strong arms, being carried upstairs and her wounds gently attended to by Fleur. 

For Harry’s sake, she tried to focus and concentrate on the information gathered from Griphook and Mr. Ollivander so that they could plan their next move.

However, when things had been decided and everyone had finally settled for some well-deserved and much-needed rest, she clutched tightly to Bellatrix’s wand and vowed that she would make sure that the evil witch and all those who subscribed to her deranged beliefs would find it difficult to have any influence in the improved society Hermione was going to help create.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to unseenlibrarian for naming the creature keeper!


End file.
